


Das sind wir und wir sind grässlich

by Elucubrations



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Blood and Gore, Dark, M/M, Murder, Student Eren Yeager, Teacher Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin), Teacher-Student Relationship, kind of not really, real fuckin dark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-27
Updated: 2017-12-27
Packaged: 2019-02-22 17:54:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13172169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elucubrations/pseuds/Elucubrations
Summary: German teacher Levi Ackerman has only ever had one favourite pupil. It turns out what they say was right all along: playing favourites will only ever lead to trouble. And oh, are they in trouble now.





	Das sind wir und wir sind grässlich

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AnnieRaffit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnieRaffit/gifts).



> Okay, so the story behind this is that for a few years I was on meds that fucked with my mind and every now and then I'd go through a Dark Phase and churn out some seriously disturbing shit. This is that. I found it when I was going through my old uncompleted fics and I started reading and actually really like it despite the disturbing. So I'm posting it, after some persuasion from a good friend, and I'm not even sorry!
> 
> Just an FYI, this takes place in an English secondary school. If anything's confusing, feel free to ask in the comments...as if anyone's going to looool
> 
> There's also German in this fic, as you may have deduced from the title. It's not translated, because I find that really awkward and unnatural in prose, but if you don't speak German, do not fear! The particulars of what is being said are not at all important to the plot, and I've made doubly certain that everything is made clear in the narration. If I've made any mistakes, in German or English, please feel free to correct me!

Ask any teacher and they’ll tell you favouritism in the classroom is unfair, immoral and unprofessional.

Ask any teacher if they have a favourite and the answer will be “well, of course”.

“I mean,” they’ll say, “who actually expects you to like the snot-nosed brats and the disgusting bullies and the stuck-up know-it-alls just as much as the quiet hardworkers or the smiling friendlies or the cute and chronically shy? I mean, that’s just ridiculous.”

“Of course,” they’ll say, “I don’t _show_ it. I mean, that’s just not right. You can’t let the little bastards know you hate all but three of them. Even though they know it anyway. But you can’t let it _show_.”

“I mean,” they’ll say, “that would just be unprofessional.”

Levi Ackerman had always been the very pinnacle of professionalism. Yes, he hated his students, but he’d be damned if he’d let them fail. Yes, the inane chatter drowned him out more often than not, but he’d die before he screamed at them. Yes, they always made fun of his height for the first few weeks of class—which made him want to burn the lot of them—but a couple of lessons spent maintaining his most terrifying glare and they’d always shut up in the end.

Mr Ackerman hated them all. Apart from one. He was always sat at the back, in the corner, not quite with the rebels, but not quite with the eagers either. Levi could tell a lot about a student from where they chose to sit. It was one of the reasons why he never introduced seating plans. This particular student’s chair told him that he didn’t completely consider himself part of the rest of the class. Not that he was isolated, just that he was disengaged. It hadn’t stopped him from collecting friends, Levi knew, but within the classroom, he would always sit away from them, leaning his head listlessly against Levi’s display board. It wasn’t to concentrate on the class, Levi knew that much. His grades were consistently good, but the glazed look in his eyes during the lessons told Levi that this was mostly raw intelligence and pot luck. It would be enough to get him through secondary school.

Why this particular student who never spoke up or volunteered an answer unless called upon was Levi’s favourite remained a mystery to him. He theorised that it was something to do with the boy’s eyes. Whenever they met with his, he just felt a connection. A fellow soul.

Of course, that was all utter rubbish and it was mostly because the boy was heart-meltingly pretty. But that really was unprofessional.

“Eren,” Levi called, secretly relishing the way the boy’s eyes snapped to his. “Would you read the next page, please?”

Admittedly, the boy’s German accent was a joke (as were those of the rest of the class), but it gave Levi an excuse to watch him while he stumbled through the lines of Dürrenmatt, interrupting only to correct some really heinous manglings of the umlauts.

“Die Menschlichkeit, meine Herren, ist für die B ö se der Millionerre geschaffen… ”

“Börse der Millionäre,” Levi cut in absently, wondering again if he could possibly get these kids on a late German exchange. Lord knew they needed it.

“Börse der Millionäre,” Eren repeated. “…mit meiner Finanzkraft leistet man sich eine Weltordnung. Die Welt machte mich zu einer Hure, nun mache ich sie zu einem Bordell.”

“Very good, Eren, thank you. Annie, if you would.”

If the rest of the class (and country) hadn’t been so frankly shit, Levi mused as Annie took over, he would have most definitely given Eren a C for his mock oral exam. Luckily for the boy, however, they were, and he and his ridiculous accent had come away with a B. Eren had seemed happy enough with it.

It was almost a shame, Levi thought. With a grade like that, he’d never be able to justify one-on-one speaking sessions after school. No, he was stuck with fucking Jean for that. That boy had never quite understood that French and German were really two very different languages.

Realising Annie had come to the end of the section, Levi shook himself out of his thoughts. “Also, Klasse,” he said, stepping towards the whiteboard. “Was sind Ihre Gedanken zum Thema von Rache?”

Oh, how he hated their blank little faces.

* * *

 

Eren caught him after class. Levi was suitably surprised and very unsuitably pleased.

“Sir?” the boy said quietly, drawing his attention.

Levi looked up from his desk. “Yes, Eren?”

“I was wondering if you could help me.”

_ Please Lord let it be after-school sessions, please Lord let it be after-school sessions, please Lord— _

“Would you be able to write my reference for UCAS?”

_ I knew there was a reason I’m atheist. _ Though if he was honest with himself, the Lord had probably done him a favour in the long run. “Well yes, of course. But can I ask why me in particular? Surely your form tutor would be a better option.”

“She doesn’t know me that well, Sir. You’ve taught me since Year Seven.”

_ So I have. _ Levi smiled as he remembered how unbelievably cute Eren had been as an eleven-year-old.

“Well, I’m very happy to do it. What courses are you applying for?”

“History and Politics.”

_ Fascinating _ . “Alright then.” Levi debated with himself before adding slightly guiltily. “Perhaps we could arrange a time to discuss it? Points you’d like me to cover and such.”

Eren smiled and it was wonderful but somehow made Levi feel even guiltier. “Of course, Sir. Thanks!” He left the room.

Levi smacked himself in the head for giving in to temptation, but failed to regret it.  


“Thanks so much for helping me with this, Sir, I really appreciate it.”

“It wasn’t any trouble, Eren,” Levi lied. He fucking hated UCAS references. “If you need anything else…”

_ You shameless pervert. _

Eren grinned. It constantly amazed Levi how engaged Eren suddenly became once class was over. “I’ll keep you in mind,” he said, not a hint of suggestion in his voice.

Levi smiled uncomfortably in response. Just as the boy was about to leave, he said. “Hey, Eren…”

“Yes, Sir?”

_ Just call me Levi, _ Levi desperately wanted to say. “How do you feel you’re performing in class?”

“German?”

“Yeah.”

Eren shrugged. “Pretty good? I mean, I’m getting B’s…”

“Forget the grades for now. How do _you_ feel you’re doing?”

Eren looked uncomfortable. “Um…I don’t know. Why are you asking? It’s not really that relevant for the subjects I’m applying for…”

Levi sighed. “I’ve noticed you seem much more…distant in class than you do in private.”

Eren blushed with shame and Levi’s insides almost deliquesced.

_ Professionalism, Levi! _

“I think you could do much better if you just…engaged. Spoke up sometimes. Took an interest.”

The blush deepened. “I am interested,” Eren mumbled.

“Then show me. I’m not telling you off, Eren, I’m asking you to challenge yourself. There’s still time before your exams. You can read around, practise your speaking, improve your accent.”

“My accent’s bad?” Eren sounded almost hurt.

Levi floundered. “Well, with the level you’re at, it’s passable, but…I mean…well, as a native German speaker I can tell very easily that you’re English. It’s not….um. The most authentic. Shall we say.”

Eren looked slightly gutted. “Oh,” he said. “Okay.” 

Levi wanted to kick himself. Of course the kid’s accent was terrible, he’d learned a foreign language in England, for God’s sake! Land of the Everyone-Speaks-English-Anyway!

“How do I improve it?”

Levi blinked. “Sorry?”

“My accent,” Eren said. “How do I improve it, make it more authentic?”

Levi gaped in surprise for a second. “Well, conversing regularly with a native speaker would be most helpful. But failing that, TV...” He trailed off at the look Eren was giving him.

“You’re a native speaker,” Eren said, rather forbiddingly.

“…I am.” His stomach was melting again and it was extremely uncomfortable.

“Would you be able to help me with this as well? I don’t want to be a pain…”

“It’s no bother, Eren,” Levi told the boy, smiling probably a bit too fondly.  


“Um…ich denke, dass Geld is– …dass Geld das wichtigste Thema _ist_ , weil die Motiven von Zachanassian haben alle—“

“Subordinating conjunctions, Eren.”

Oh, fuck. Oh my— Sorry Sir!” Eren looked horrified and Levi almost choked.

“Don’t worry about it, an odd swear word never hurt anyone.”

“Really?” Eren didn’t look sure. “But we’re in school. And you’re my teacher.”

_ Don’t remind me _ , Levi thought. “The bell’s rung. And I’d like to see the law that states pupils aren’t allowed to swear in front of their teachers. That was made up by headteachers to be a pain in the ass and an excuse for detention.”

Eren blinked at the cuss and let out a surprised, bubbling laugh that damn near stopped Levi’s heart. It was around this point that Levi actually became aware of what the situation was. This had now gone beyond just thinking the boy was pretty. The way his heart clenched, the way his insides melted in reaction to this… _boy_. Whatever he had felt before was now morphing into something much too similar to real, hot desire than was legal.

Levi couldn’t breathe. _Oh God. Oh God, help me._

He was monstrous.

“Sir?” Eren’s voice wrenched him out of his shock. “Are you okay? You don’t look so good all of a sudden.”

Levi swallowed dryly and tried to ignore the fact that he’d broken out into a cold sweat. “I’m fine, Eren,” he reassured the boy. “Back to Zachanassian, if you would.”  


“Sir? What does the L stand for?”

Levi looked up from the prompt card. “What?”

“Mr L. Ackerman. What’s the L?”

Levi debated whether it was appropriate for him to be handing out his first name to a student. He came down on the side of caution. “That’s classified.”

“Leonard?”

“Just give up, Jaeger, you’ll never get it.”

“Lionel?”

“Eren, worum geht es hier?”

“Luke?”

“ _Eren_.”

“Fine, fine. Es geht hier um…”  


“Levi!”

Levi almost jumped out of his skin at the unexpected shout in his ear. “What in the fucking—?!” He span around to find Eren behind him. _Whoops._

Eren looked delighted and not a little smug. “I asked Mikasa. She knew.”

Levi could only imagine how. “Well, congratulations to her. Let’s get to work.”

“It’s a nice name. Like the jeans.”

“Eren.”

“Do you not like it? Is that why you’re always such a hard-ass about it? Would you mind if I called you Levi?”

Levi was beginning to feel uncomfortable. The more intimate the boy’s questions got, the more tempting he became, and Levi wasn’t sure how much more he (or his morals) could stand. “Eren, you’re crossing the student-teacher line quite a lot now.”

“I thought that didn’t apply after school hours.” Eren retorted.

_ This whole idea was a terrible mistake _ . “There are boundaries. This is still a professional situation, and I am still Mr Ackerman to you.” Levi couldn’t quite look him in the eye.

There was a moment of quiet. 

“Okay,” said Eren weakly. “Sorry.”

It hit Levi like a kick to the balls.  


“How did I do in my oral?”

“Well, I said so afterwards. Why are you here, Eren?”

“What grade do you think I got?”

“With the improved accent and fluency, I’d guess an A. But Eren, why are you here? Your oral’s done, you don’t need to do any more speaking practice.”

“I know. I came to say hi.”

“We see each other in class.”

“It’s different here. You’re more engaged.”

Levi didn’t really have an answer for that.  


The A2 exams were done, Eren had left school and Levi was stuck with the Year Eights. If Levi was touchier than usual, no one mentioned it.

He put his name down for handing out grades on Results Day.  


“Mr Ackerman! I got an A!”

Levi smiled. “Well done, Eren, you should be proud. You worked very hard this year.”

Eren’s grin was almost painful to look at, it was so bright. “It’s all thanks to you, Sir. Thank you for all the help you gave me.”

Levi felt something twinge in his heart. “You’re welcome, Eren,” he said, swallowing.

Eren was about to leave when he seemed to remember something. “Hey, Sir, you’re technically not my teacher anymore, right?”

Levi hesitated. “Well, no, I’m not…”

“Would you like to come out with us tonight then?” Eren suggested cheekily. “To celebrate?”

Levi forgot to breathe. It felt like his heart had forgotten to beat. “Aren’t I a bit old to be out clubbing on a Thursday night?” he tried joking.

Eren scoffed. “Where’s your sense of adventure? What are you, twenty-eight?”

_ Try thirty-five. _ “It would be inappropriate, Eren.”

Eren rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, always the bloody pinnacle of professionalism. Well, if you change your stick-in-the-mud attitude, we’ll be at the Titan. You should come, you know.”

_ I really, really shouldn’t _ , Levi thought as he watched Eren walk away.  


He went, of course. Not into the club, not with Eren. But he went. He didn’t really know why.

It was midnight and cold and Levi had forgotten his coat. He could see the Titan, one of the more popular nightclubs, on the other side of the road, feel the bass vibrating through the concrete and through the soles of his feet. The street was completely deserted. He wondered what would happen if he just went inside, found Eren and bought him a drink.

_ Arrest, Levi. Losing your job. The eternal brand of a paedophile. _

He knew it was a bad idea. Like a moth drawn to a flame, he vaguely crossed the street, not intending to go inside, only to get just a little closer.

_ I don’t want to let him go _ , Levi realised. _I’m not just going to miss his face. I’m going to miss_ him.

Desperately.

He wondered if a lot of teachers felt like this. It was almost like saying goodbye to one’s own child, except really not at all.

_ Seven years of seeing that brat every working day and I never even said goodbye. _ Inexplicably, Levi suddenly felt like crying.

Shouts were ringing out from the alleyway by the club. Someone was having a fight, Levi realised. Punches thumped in time to the muted music and Levi half-expected them to pause just before the bass drop. Instead, a scuffle, a clatter, a sickening thump and razor-sharp silence echoed in the night. Levi, frozen in dread, realised the fight must have taken a sharp turn for the worse. He needed to alert an authority. What if one of them was injured?

Against his better judgement, Levi went to investigate. He felt like he had to—what if it was all fine, even though he knew it couldn’t have been.

He peered into the shadow of the alleyway and gasped.

There were two boys on the floor, one on his ass, the other on his stomach, face-down in a rapidly-growing pool of blood.

Levi’s gasp caught the attention of the other boy, and he whipped around, scrambling to his feet. His shocked gasp echoed Levi’s own.

“Mr Ackerman?”

Eren’s eyes were wild, traumatised. His clothes and face were torn and filthy, and his hands were covered in blood.

The boy on the floor was Jean Kirstein, Levi belatedly realised.

“Holy shit,” he breathed. He couldn’t believe his eyes. Surely this had to be a nightmare.

Eren crumpled to the floor again, seemingly unable to stay upright. “It was an accident,” he sobbed. “I swear it was an accident! He was just being an arse and we’d had a few drinks and we fought and I pushed him and he tripped and I…” Eren didn’t seem to be able to go on.

Levi could feel his hands trembling. “Holy shit,” he repeated. He took a step back.

Eren’s eyes flashed to Levi’s, desperate tears tracking through the dirt on his face. “Mr Ackerman, please! Please help me, help me…” his voice trailed off into a hoarse, painful croak. He curled up and sobbed.

Something snapped in Levi and he was suddenly elevated above the panic, mind crystal clear. He felt cold as he marched over to Eren and hauled him upright. “Come with me, quickly,” he hissed urgently.

Eren gazed up at him in disbelief.

“ _Hurry_!”

He did as he was told. Levi half-carried him down the street, almost forgetting about the blood and muck that Eren was wiping onto his shirt. He bundled the boy into the car and slammed the door, hurrying around to the driver’s side and throwing himself behind the wheel. He desperately tried to clear his mind, focus on anything but the ringing in his ears and his swimming vision and the images of blood crawling through his mind. He somehow fumbled the keys into the ignition and stalled the car twice before finally managing to drive off. 

Pulling up outside of his apartment building, Levi ripped his seatbelt off and ran for the entrance, Eren following right behind him. Only when they were both safely inside the flat with the door slammed shut did Levi feel able to breathe again. He took advantage of it, breathing deeply in and out for a good minute before turning to a still-trembling Eren.

“Right,” he gritted out, voice hoarse and rough. Eren flinched. “What the _fuck_ was that?”

Tears were still dripping from Eren’s eyes. He gulped and gasped, seemingly unable to get the words out, and for the very first time, Levi felt repulsed by him; this filthy, pathetic creature for whom he was risking everything he had.

“I…” Eren finally managed to sob. “I never _meant_ …he tripped and hit his head on the step, I didn’t know what to do, I couldn’t…” His voice died off with a strangled gasp.

Levi’s hands were shaking as he ran his fingers violently through his hair. “And you pushed him, you said?”

Eren sobbed, nodding.

_ That’s murder, or manslaughter at least _ , Levi thought, feeling sick. Eren was going to be charged with murder. He slid down the door and landed heavily on the floor. 

Eren, too, fell to his knees, reaching out for Levi in the most heart-rending plea for comfort the man had ever seen. Levi flinched away from the rust-dyed, flaking hands.

“Don’t touch me,” he hissed. Eren withdrew his hands as if burned, drawing them against his chest and curling up into a ball. 

“But it was an accident, it was an accident, please…” he was choking out between sobs.

Levi buried his head in his hands. “Get up,” he muttered.

Eren’s red, swollen eye peeked at him from behind a matted curtain of brown hair. “What?” he whispered hoarsely.

“I said get up,” Levi repeated, standing up himself. “You’re going to wash.”

Eren lay motionless on the floor, still shaking.

Levi resisted the urge to kick him. “Get the _fuck up_!”

Eren scrambled to his feet, fear in his eyes. “Don’t,” he begged.

“What?”

“Please don’t turn me in, please!”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“You’re trying to get me away so you can phone the police, please don’t, I’m begging you!”

“Eren, I’m not going to phone the police, I just want you to stop wiping my ex-pupil’s blood all over my fucking _carpet_!” Eren flinched away as Levi shouted, momentarily forgetting the neighbours. Levi took a breath and calmed down. “Eren, if I call the police I will be arrested right along with you. I’ve helped you now. Frankly, I’m fucked. All for your sake, so you could at least do me the courtesy of getting in the fucking shower.”

Eren nodded mutely. Levi sighed with relief and led the way to the bathroom. “Right, here’s a towel. You can use whatever’s in there. Please do, in fact. And make sure to wipe down everything afterwards, I don’t want to find a single speck of dirt when I come back in here.” He made to leave.

A sudden tug on his sleeve stopped him and he ripped away from the filthy fingers on his cuff. “ _Don’t touch me_!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Eren wailed. “But please…”

“Please what?”

“Please don’t leave me…”

Levi was somewhere between disgusted and exasperated. “Eren, you are eighteen years old. You can shower by yourself, thank you very much.”

“But I’m scared,” came the mumbled reply.

“Of what?!” Levi cried in frustration. “I’m not going to call the bloody police!”

Eren’s teary eyes told him all he needed to know to work out the answer.

_ Oh _ , he realised. _He’s scared of himself._

And who wouldn’t be?

Levi sighed and couldn’t quite believe he was actually about to do what he was about to do. “Fine. I’ll stay.” He motioned for Eren to come closer and started unbuttoning his shirt for him to save his trembling fingers the trouble.

Eren seemed surprised by this. “I thought you didn’t want me to touch you?” he whispered.

Levi’s jaw was set hard, eyes fixed on his task. “It’s the hands that are the problem, not you.”

Eren looked down and blinked at his filthy skin. “Do you have OCD?” he asked almost absently, like he’d been asking himself about it for a while.

“Something like that.” Levi had finished with the shirt and now knelt down to unfasten Eren’s too-tight jeans. This exact scene that had passed through his subconscious mind many a shameful time was somehow nothing like he had imagined.

Eren’s lower half was by far the cleanest area of his body, the skin underneath his underwear milky pale. Levi didn’t even have to try not to stare at Eren’s crotch, which worried him a little, knowing him. Who would have thought that a mere bit of trauma would fix his illegal obsession with little to no trouble?

Gripping Eren by his biceps, Levi steered him into the shower, turned on the spray and hurriedly stepped out and drew the transparent curtain before he got too wet. He could feel his skin crawling with grime, but his own shower could wait. If he had to look at that blood for a second longer, Levi was sure he would throw up.

Slowly, Eren started to wash himself. The blood dripped off his hands and arms in pink rivulets, red drops making their way down his face as well. With his perfectly blank facial expression and exhausted posture, Levi thought, it almost looked like a scene from a film.

It took around fifteen minutes for Eren to agonisingly wash his hands, face, body and hair. He (very considerately, Levi appreciated, taking into account what had just happened to the boy) hosed down the shower after he was done and stepped out into the fluffy towel Levi held out for him. Levi stepped back quickly and opened the bathroom door.

“Wait for me in the sitting room,” he said. Eren walked out obediently, finally seeming to have calmed down from his panic.

Levi stripped, showered and dried off in record time. Wrapped in his own towel, he marched past a rather sorry-looking Eren on the couch to his bedroom and threw on his pyjamas. He grabbed a t-shirt and a pair of shorts for Eren.

When the boy tried to put on the clothes, Levi realised rather embarrassingly that the t-shirt in particular was never going to fit. The shorts themselves where about half as long on the boy as they were on Levi himself, but the t-shirt wouldn’t even go over his shoulders.

Levi sighed. “Just leave it,” he said. “It’s warm enough anyway.”

Eren nodded, and Levi found himself worrying about how quiet the boy was.

“Speak to me, Eren, you’re going to have to keep it together now.”

Eren shook his head, eyes glazed. “I’m fine,” he whispered, voice a barely-there croak. “I’m fine,” he tried again, but his voice cracked on the last syllable and suddenly tears were dripping from his cheeks once more. Levi breathed a sigh of relief.

“That’s good, crying’s good. Cry all you like.” As long as there was no panic and no emptiness, Levi felt like Eren might just pull through.

Eren curled in on himself, screaming silently. His arms reached out for Levi once again, and this time Levi felt no disgust. He stepped over to the boy and gathered him in his arms, rocking him gently and breathing in the smell of his shampoo in the boy’s hair.

“It will all be okay,” Levi forced himself to say. Lying had always been his least favourite talent.  


Levi woke up with a crick in his neck and a horrible heavy feeling in his belly. Sleeping had been mostly a write-off, and he had drifted between dreams and the nightmare that was now his reality for most of the night until he had eventually passed out into a welcome, dreamless coma.

Eren was the first thought on Levi’s mind upon fully waking, and he quickly got up and padded to his bedroom where the boy had slept. Opening the door revealed that ‘slept’ was taking quite a few liberties: the boy’s eyes were sunken and ringed with grey. Frankly, he looked half-dead.

“Sir,” the boy croaked when he saw Levi in the doorway. “I’m really thirsty.”

Levi nodded and brought him a glass of water and a paracetamol for good measure.

“How are you feeling otherwise?” Levi asked pointlessly, sitting down next to the boy on the bed.

“Like I want to die.” The worst thing was that he didn’t even mildly sound like he was joking.

It was ridiculous, Levi thought, how senselessly attached he had become to this teenager. If Eren committed suicide, all of Levi’s problems would be over. It would be like nothing had happened. And yet the very thought made Levi feel sick right down to his bones.

“I don’t want you to die,” he told Eren truthfully.

“But why?” the boy asked in anguish. “You should! You should hate me even more than you already do! I’m heinous! I’m a…” Even in his passion, he couldn’t bring himself to say it.

Levi sighed. “Eren, I don’t hate you.”

“Bullshit. _I_ hate me.”

“I’m aware of that. But I don’t.”

Eren stared at him in disbelief. “Mr Ackerman, I… _killed_ my friend. One of your students!”

Levi stared at his knees. “It was an accident,” he said. “And even if it hadn’t been…” He took a breath. “Eren, I don’t think there is a single thing you could do that would make me hate you.” There. He’d said it.

Eren blinked, mouth slack. “And you’re happy about that?”

“The opposite. But it is how it is. Eren, we’ve both already started down this path. We may as well see it through to the end.” He looked the boy directly in the eyes. “I will help you as much as I am able, I will protect you until I can’t anymore.”

Eren looked ready to cry again. “But why?” he whispered.

Levi shook his head, close to desperate tears himself. “Please don’t ask.”  


They decided to flee the country that day, before the police put out a search warrant for Eren and his pretty face. The flight tickets were murder to Levi’s bank account, but he supposed it was more than worth it, all things considered.

“Where are we going then?” Eren asked listlessly, draped over Levi’s couch like a Michelangelo in shrunken clothes.

“Where do you think?” Levi said, hammering out a text to his good friend who owed him a giant favour now in the form of two rush-order fake passports. “Germany.”  


They somehow managed to land in Baden-Baden without trouble. Levi was sorry he’d ever doubted in God’s benevolent existence. The bus and trains to the tiny town to which they were headed took much less time than it felt like, and sooner or later they stepped out onto the platform of the German equivalent of Hemel Hempstead. Indeed, the only thing in the town that was different to Hemel Hempstead was that it for whatever reason had a university, making it the perfect place to rent cheap accommodation at short notice for short periods of time.

They arrived at their flat around ten pm and realised with dual groans that it only had one single bed. Levi resigned himself to spending another night in relentless discomfort, this time on the carpet.

He was awoken at half past eight by Eren gently shaking his shoulder and whispering “Sir. Sir!”

“For fuck’s sake, Jaeger, just call me Levi,” Levi groaned, batting away the boy’s pawing hands. “And piss off, it’s too early for your bullshit.”

“There’s someone at the door,” Eren hissed, and Levi shot upright.

A knock on the door. “Herr Weber?” called an unknown voice. “Ich bin der Vermieter.”

Levi sighed in relief. “It’s just the landlord,” he explained to Eren, hurriedly pulling on a shirt and motioning for Eren to the same. He opened the door with a smile. “Ah, Herr Schindler, es tut mir leid, ich hab noch geschlafen. Wir sind gestern ziemlich spät angekommen, also…” he nattered, trying to ignore the raised eyebrow the landlord threw at Eren. Hopefully the man would just assume he was his son.

Mr Schindler only wanted to do a quick inventory and check the fire alarm, and explained the rules of house quickly as well. Handing over the contract for them to sign, he mentioned that while two people were legally allowed to share the apartment, an extra bed would have to be bought by them. Levi just nodded, desperate for the man to get out of the room before he decided that Levi looked far too young to have such a tall son and called the police.

Once he had finally left, Eren muttered grumpily, “He was looking at me like I was a prostitute.”

“Well let’s hope for both our sakes that he didn’t actually believe that.”

“What other explanation could there possibly be? He can’t be that stupid, it’s obvious you’re way too young to have such an old son!”

Levi rolled his eyes. “Stop over-analysing it. It’s not even that unlikely.”

“What?”

Levi sighed in resignation. “Eren, exactly how old do you think I am?”

“I don’t know! Twenty-seven, twenty-eight?”

“I’m thirty-five.”

“ _What_?” Eren looked much too shocked for it to be flattering.

“Shut up,” Levi told him. “Anyway, we shouldn’t have any need to worry. You look seventeen, eighteen and my having a child of your age wouldn’t be too unheard of, would it?”

“But you don’t look anything like thirty-five! You’re the height of a twelve-year-old!”

Levi’s eye twitched. “My date of birth was on the forms I sent him,” he grumbled.

“Well, thank God for that, then.”

“You’re an ass, Eren Jaeger.”

“Right back at you, Levi Ackerman.”

Levi glared at him. “This ass is helping you escape some serious prison sentences, don’t be rude.”

To his credit, Eren only flinched a bit. “What are you gonna do, _Sir_?” he challenged. “Give me detention?

Something hot curled in Levi’s belly.  


They never ended up buying another bed.

Levi had been browsing for one online, waiting for Eren to come back with the shopping, when a knock same at the door. It was the landlord, who now looked ten times more suspicious of him than he had the first time.

_ He’s figured it out, _ Levi realised, going cold. _He’s seen something in the news. He must have._

“Der Bube da…” the landlord began threateningly. “Ich hab ihn im Fernseher gesehen, in den Nachrichten…”

There was a knife in Levi’s hand and the landlord never finished his sentence.

When Eren finally came back, Levi was kneeling in the warm pool of blood surrounding the landlord, body shaking violently. Eren immediately dropped the groceries and slammed the door, running to where Levi knelt.

“What happened?” he demanded desperately. “Are you hurt?”

Levi shook his head numbly. “He figured it out…” he said hoarsely. “He saw your picture on the news, he knew, he knew…”

Eren was speechless. He stared at the knife on the floor, blade covered in gore. Falling to his knees, heedless of the blood soaking into his jeans, he gripped Levi’s face in his hands.

“You did this…for me?” he whispered.

Levi nodded, tears falling onto his cheeks. “I promised,” was all he said.

A strangled noise, then _“Levi”_ , and then Eren’s lips were on his and his hands were in his hair and he could feel his breath puffing down his throat and his tongue pushing at his numb lips and suddenly Levi was cupping Eren’s cheek, smearing it with sticky blood and pulling him closer, closer, _deeper_ , until all he was aware of was how Eren felt against him and how he tasted inside his mouth and how fast his heart was beating, like it was going to pound right out of his ribcage. Eren was almost in his lap at this point, and his knee was nudging the corpse and this was wrong, _so wrong_ , but Levi somehow thought he’d never felt so right before in his entire existence, thought that no one had ever felt so right at all.

They broke apart eventually, both panting and red and aroused. They stared at each other, eyes dark, until Eren broke the heavy silence. “We’re going to need to get rid of this body.”  


They ended up cutting the landlord into tiny pieces and posting him down the plughole with enormous amounts of bleach and drain cleaner. The entire process must have taken about seven hours. They mopped and bleached the laminate floor, thanking their stars that none of the blood had reached the carpet, and threw out Levi’s clothes along with the enormous, exhausting adrenaline rush that inevitably came with murder.

They slept together for the first time that night, the tiny bed creaking agonisingly under their combined weight, and as he moved inside Eren, watched the boy gasp and moan and whine, Levi could only feel as if he were in a dream. It was all surreal, the give of Eren’s flesh beneath his teeth, the smack of skin against skin as they thrust against each other again and again. 

Levi was dreaming as he drifted into a satiated sleep, and he was dreaming when he woke up the next morning. He was dreaming as he lied to the police officers enquiring at his door with a genial smile on his face, his palms dry as parchment. He was dreaming as he found a speck of blood on the corner of the shower that they had missed, and he was dreaming as he wiped it away with wettened toilet paper.

None of it felt real. Not the blood, the death, the sex. Nothing.

He kissed Eren over and over, trying to feel something, anything. A few short weeks ago, this had been his ultimate, unattainable fantasy. Why couldn’t he feel anything? When Eren inevitably laughed at him and asked him what he was doing, Levi could only respond, “I feel like I can’t wake up.”

Eren’s eyes were suddenly as blank as Levi’s mind, as if a paper mask had slipped from his face. If anything, he looked almost relieved. “Yeah,” he said. “Me too.”

They slept together for the second time after that and still, Levi felt nothing. It was three weeks later that he finally accepted that he was probably never going to wake up. This was him now.

When he voiced this thought to Eren, the boy shook his head with an enigmatic smile. “Us,” he corrected. “This is us.”

Levi’s face broke into an answering grin. “And we’re monstrous.”


End file.
